Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up! I'll try to write more, read and review please!
Uncle Nelson looked up at Lacey, a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Your glucose numbers are excellent, I dont know why you went into keto before, you have a pretty tight hold on your blood sugars now. Are things with Dr. Rosenberg going well?"
Lacey cringed. She hated him to mention the psychiatrist she was seeing as part of the treatment of her diabetes. "Um... I guess so." Lacey stumbled.
"Lacey, you know that treating your diabetes involves both your body and your mind. You did some damage to your body when you went into keto, and we can't reverse it. I dont want you ending up blind or on dialysis, you know that. I love you Lacey."
"I'll keep trying Uncle Nelson. Believe me."
"I believe you. Now, go along. I saw Jeff out in the waiting room, and he's going to get worried if you're in here too long." Lacey nodded and left her uncle's office.
Lacey walked down the hallway behind the reception desk that she knew all too well. The area she had been so many times. She remembered the time she walked down this hallway after she had been diagnosed. Her blood sugar level was at 508--a normal reading was between 70 and 120. She had been tired, hungry, thin, and most of all, thirsty and dehydrated from lack of insulin. The samesymptoms occurred when she was in keto. Her friend Terri had started getting suspicious of Lacey's weight-loss method; when it had been leading Lacey into the bathroom frequently because her body didnt know what to do with the extra sugar--ketones--in her blood.
"Hey Lacey, how did things with your uncle go?" Jeff said.
"Hey Jeff. They went good. It's actually nice seeing people being happy with me for once!" Lacey said. She slung the messenger bag she was carrying over her shoulder, and scheduled her next appointment with her uncle's receptionist.
It wasnt easy to keep her glucose in control. Lacey was busy, which caused things to get out of hand. Her parent's divorce had been hard on her, which probably caused her numbers to skyrocket as well as the extra snacks and skipping injections. The worst thing was that Lacey didnt know anyone else with diabetes and had nobody to talk to about the daily hassles of insulin and testing and glucose numbers and exercise and her diet. It was so frustrating!
"Do you think it would help to go to one of those diabetic support groups?" Jeff asked as he and Lacey headed out of the doors of the DRI. "I know that at Jenny House it helped me when I got to know other people who were dealing with diseases."
"I dont want to go to one of Uncle Nelson's stupid support groups. He thinks they're so great and that he knows what I need. Only I know what I need--not to have diabetes."
When they reached Jeff's car, he unlocked the passenger door and held it open for Lacey. She slid inside and buckled the seatbelt, then Jeff entered the driver side door. "Well, I have a feeling that you're not going to be getting rid of your diabetes tomorrow. You remember what Gary said when we went on the tour of the DRI, right?" He said, switching the car into gear.
"Yeah, yeah. Islet cell transplants would be good, but they have to figure out how to grow an entire planet of islets for everybody with diabetes."
"Exactly."
Lacey and Jeff drove along the busy Miami roads. "So, are you good for a snack? I was thinking the Surf Shack."
"Probably, it's my snack time anyways. Let me check my blood sugar."
Immediately after saying this, a light-headed feeling came over Lacey as she once again used the glucometer. 54. "Oh, great, I'mway low."
"Do you want any help, I can pull over." Jeff said.
"No, I'm fine. I just need some glucose tablets, that's all." Lacey said, then reached into her bag for the ever-familliar package. She took two and then remembered to wait for fifteen minutes, then check her glucose again.
Ten minutes later, she was feeling better, and they arrived at the Surf Shack. She satat a picnic table with the bench and table top shaped like surfboards, and pulled out her glucometer again. She hated testing in front of people, and sheknew since she was going to have a snack she should give herselfan insulin injection,so shegot up and told Jeff she was headed to the bathroom. She then locked herself intoa stall and tested her glucose.It was at 71, so she gave herself less insulin then she usually would. Since leaving the hospital, they had changed her insulin dosages to six seperate injections, so she could have more flexibility in what she ate and when she ate. She then hoped she had given herself agood amount of insulin--too much would leave hergoing backwards to another insulin reaction--hypoglycemia--and too little would make her blood sugars skyrocket--hyperglycemia. She drew up theinsulin in the syringe, and pushed it intoher stomach. It stung--even after having diabetes for five years she hadnt gotten used to the feeling ofgiving herself an insulin injection! Even now that it wassix times a day instead of two!
She capped the syringe and put it back in her bag to throw away later--at home she had a special biohazard container to throw her used syringes in. The test strips from her glucometer and the replaceable lancet--sharp--from the glucometer had to go in seperatecontainers and be taken to the pharmacy for special disposal. She didnt know where they went from there--and she couldnt care less! She then washed her hands and headed back out to the table. "Hey," She said when she sat down beside Jeff.
"Hey, Lacey. You okay?" He asked. "Oops--Sorry! You know I didnt mean that!"
She glared at Jeff, then smiled. "Bad boy--You know how much we hate that question!"
"Okay, okay, so what are we eating?" Jeff asked.
Lacey thought to her meal plan, and then looked at the menu. "How about strawberries and a bit of whipped cream and some cheese toast?"
"What an interesting combination!" Jeff laughed. Lacey shrugged and smiled--her meal plan could make things pretty odd sometimes. "But it sounds good."
Jeff went to the counter and ordered their food, while Lacey enviously watched the other customers. A girl who looked about 12 was eating a Mile High Mud Pie--by herself. Lacey cringed at the thought of what eating that mountain of cake by herself could do to her body. Kidney failure, blindness, heart disease--ugh. She was diagnosed when she was 11, so being a happy-go-lucky 12 year old eating a Mile High Mud Pie had passed her by. Diabetes put her at an endless struggle with weight gain, but now that she was working with an exercise therapist, she hadn't gained all of the weight back that she had lost when she went into keto. Uncle Nelson had always told her that she was at a healthy weight--but that wasnt what Lacey was thinking when she began experimenting with her insulin, food, and throwing up--she was thinking about pristine thin-ness.
Jeff arrived back with the food, and Lacey enjoyed every bite of it. Because of her diabetes, she had to take sugars into moderation, but now that she knew that she didnt have to deprive herself of the things she loved, she was more at peace with her diabetes--but still not fully. She hated how the disease plagued her from what she thought freedom was.
After they had finished eating, Jeff put his arm around Lacey and they walked to the car. He drove through the descending darkness and stopped at the front of her house. "Thanks for taking me out, Jeff. I love spending time with you?"
"Should we say Saturday, then? A movie at about nine, perhaps?"
"Sure, that sounds great. See you then, Jeff."
"Bye, Lacey."
She closed the car door and ran up the front sidewalk. Her mom was inside. "Hi, Lacey. Where were you?"
"Oh, just out with Jeff after my appointment. He was walking through the hospital and he saw me, so he waited while I was in with Uncle Nelson, and then we went to the Surf Shack."
"That's nice. What did Uncle Nelson have to say?"
"Oh, that my numbers are usually close to perfect and he dosen't understand why I went into keto a few months ago."
"Well, dinner will be ready in about two hours, so if you have any homework go ahead and do it, I'll call you when the food's ready."
"What are we having?" Lacey asked, prepared to do some quick calculations about how to inject her insulin.
"Chicken,apples, carrots, bread and cheese, I think. I bought some low-sugar ice cream, so if you'd like some of that after, you can."
"Great. I have an English paper to do, I think I'll go work on that."
"Okay, I'll call you when it's ready."
Lacey headed up the stairs to her bedroom, and her gaze caught on the biohazard container for her used syringes. She went and grabbed the messenger bag and threw the syringe inside. People probably would think I'm a druggie or a hypochondriac if they saw this room. Lacey thought. She shoved the container in a drawer of her desk, along with the sterile syringes, spare glucose monitor, batteries, glucose tablets, glucose gel, test strips, antidisenfectantswabs and a few glucagon syringes that were kept wrapped in plastic. She usually had some glucose tablets, her monitor, and enough stuff for a few insulin injections, and one glucagon syringe with her at all times, in case she was running late or needed some sugar, but tried to keep it hidden. She didnt like people asking her questions about her diabetes, and only the people who absolutely had to know, knew about it.
She pulled out her English paper and set to work. The time stopped moving around her, and she was startled when the two hours had passed and her mom called her down to supper. She quickly tested her blood glucose, and measured out the right amount of insulin, then stuck herself with the needle, then pressed an antiseptic swab on the injection site. She threw the syringe in the biohazard container, and washed her hands, then went down to join her mother for dinner.
"So, Lacey, summer's coming up, and Uncle Nelson told me about a diabetes camp--"
"I'm not going to diabetes camp. I'm too old for camp, anyways."
"Not as a camper, Lacey, as a counselor. I figure you've dealt with diabetes long enough that you could help others out who are coming to terms with it too."
"You dont come to terms with diabetes, it's just there."
"You know what I mean. Anyways,I told him that I'd talk to you about it. And seeing as you dont have a summer job, you could go for it. You'll get paid, and spend time outdoors and get lots of exercise--"
"If I go, will you leave me alone?"
"Excuse me?" Ms. Duval looked stricken.
"If I go," Lacey repeated slower "Will you leave me alone? Will you trust me with my diabetes at camp? Will you not call repeatedly and ask if I'm okay."
"Deal. If you go, I'll leave you alone for the six weeks that you'll be there."
"Okay, I'll go."
"Really?"
"Yes, I will. I'm serious."
"Great! I'll let Uncle Nelson know."
Lacey finished eating her supper, and then wondered if she had made the right choice. Right or not, she was going. And that was how Lacey ended up at Camp Blackbear.